


a date to catch

by mjolnirunworthy



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Gen, Short One Shot, still a lil hurt over Steve's ending, this was how I achieved closure lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-11-02 00:16:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20557091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mjolnirunworthy/pseuds/mjolnirunworthy
Summary: Briefly after the dusting of Thanos and his army, the Infinity Stones must be returned to their original locations. Captain America steps up to the task — but his mind is focused elsewhere. The further backwards Steve falls into time, the more he’s sure of where he wants to be.





	a date to catch

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Bucky’s last words echoed in Steve’s head, growing more muffled as he felt himself lurch backward through time. If there was anyone who would guess Steve’s plan — and if there was anyone who would know better than to dissuade Steve — it would be his best friend.

For a moment Steve’s heart clenched and seemed not to want to beat again. He was floating and falling at the same time. His body was drifting away from itself at all its joints — there went the tips of his fingers — his knees — his neck — he couldn’t even hear the ringing usually present in his ears —

And then he snapped back together. Even after the first few times, time traveling was unnerving at best. It took a moment for the black dots to clear from his vision; once he was able to regain his bearings, Steve assessed his surroundings.

He had landed in the dismal, purple-gray landscape of Vormir, harsh and cold. Each step forward felt wrong. The ground seemed to curl away from his feet, urging him to turn back and away from his plan. A slight breeze grazed his cheek and whispered to him: _Are you sure?_ Steve almost scoffed. What a question. He felt for his compass and traced its outline, easing his apprehension.

_Steve Rogers, son of Joseph._

That hadn’t been the wind.

_… Old friend._

Steve squared his shoulders and turned toward the voice. Without realizing, he squeezed the case containing the Stones harder, continuing even when he felt the handle bend.

“Schmidt,” Steve said.

_No. Not anymore._ Red Skull’s expression remained apathetic, as bones tend to.

“I… wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

_You’ve brought the Stones._

Steve didn’t reply; for a moment the two stood in silence, Steve’s breathing steady but shallow, Schmidt’s ratted cloak disintegrating into the wind.

Schmidt spoke, softer this time. _You can’t bring her back._

He’d already known, but still, the words were an icy fist around Steve’s heart. “Can you take at least me to her?” he managed to wrench out.

Without a word, Schmidt turned and lead the way to a steep ledge covered in debris, though whether soot or snow, Steve was unsure. The air was stiff. When Steve licked his lips they tasted like ash.

_This is as close as you may come to Natasha_. Schmidt tilted his head.

Steve set the briefcase and Mjolnir aside and sat with his feet hanging over the cliff’s edge. Vormir was a somber mass of rock and decay, and all he could think while looking out to its horrid horizon was that _Nat deserved a better place_. His chest ached, his heart feeling tugged in a thousand different directions by tiny claws, his lungs contracting and erupting a choked sob. _She shouldn’t have died here — no one should have died._

There was finally time to cry, so Steve did. Natasha probably would’ve hated it. He didn’t care. How could she expect him not to mourn her?

Whenever he wanted to stop, more tears came forth, not just for the dead but the living too. Nat and Tony were gone and Steve hated that, but he almost hated more that Clint no longer had the friend that had saved him from himself. Morgan no longer had her father. Peter from Queens no longer had his mentor. The half of humanity that had disappeared had lost five years, five years that could have been everything to them. Steve wept more and more the harder he tried to hold back. And, as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t hate himself for it.

Vormir waited and watched. Unmoved. Unforgiving. All it wanted was the Stone back — the growing pressure in the atmosphere made as much clear.

“Sorry about that,” Steve said to the air, voice ragged, once his eyes had dried, standing and brushing off his suit. He reached for the case and opened it. “Uh, I believe this belongs with you.”

Schmidt oozed forward and nodded. Not for a split second did his bloodshot eyes light up at the sight of all six Infinity Stones. What had this place done to him?

_Farewell, Steve Rogers_, he said as he took the Soul Stone.

Steve nodded, summoned Mjolnir, and transported to the next stop.

He landed in an ornately decorated alcove, darker than Vormir, yet somehow less suffocating. In its center stood an empty podium. A little conspicuous, Steve thought, but there must not be too many idiots that would try to steal it.

Steve was halfway through easing the Power Stone out of its nesting when he realized that he probably couldn’t put it back on the podium just like that. Once it was in place it more than likely would activate some sort of defense system. Rhodey hadn’t elaborated much on it, but Steve had seen Nebula’s newly-skeletal hand. His inference skills were at least that good.

If only Tony was here. He’d have conjured a plan so chaotic it would have to work. Steve wasn’t completely stupid, but the blip had taken much of his tactical mind; the best idea coming forward was to wrap the Stone in some cloth and throw it at the podium like a baseball. In how many timelines out of 14 million would that work?

Steve fished around in the compartment opposite of that holding the Stones for the Orb. He opened it and used the halves to scoop up the Power Stone, almost making himself chuckle. You’d think returning one of the most important objects in the universe would be a little more ceremonial than tossing it into a glorified hamster ball.

The Orb did feel sort of like a baseball, or maybe more like a softball. It had a strange weight to it once the Power Stone was back in, concentrated toward the front, like a gravitational pull. Steve looked up and realized it was probably attracted to the podium. The longer he stood, the greater the attraction became. Maybe if he just let go of the Orb it would take care of itself —

He was in the middle of contemplating when the Orb flew out of his hand and into its place at the center of the platform. Silvery beams formed out of thin air and surrounded it. Steve held his hand out for Mjolnir — just in case — and blinked, tilted his head, blinked again. A moment passed and he relaxed. Perhaps a long while ago he would have laughed after that tension. Now he was just too tired.

There was a rustle and a groan outside of the cave, a startling reminder that Peter (not the one from Queens, of course) was also present. Right. Nice of him to make it easier on Rhodey and Nebula in their part of the Time Heist.

“What the hell? _Captain America_?” someone slurred.

Steve realized he was standing at the mouth of the alcove and almost swore, but grasped his composure and pressed it back into place. He threw a smug look over his shoulder — giving off the best “no-one-will-ever-believe-you-about-this” energy he could muster — and pointed at the still-dazed Peter.

“Stay in school, soldier,” Steve proclaimed in his best PR voice, punctuating it with a wink. Then he slammed his watch, no hesitation this time, and prepared for that same dismembering feeling.

Asgard was much more comfortable than the previous two spots. It had actual, warm, spring sunlight that touched Steve’s face like a lover; the architecture was vaguely Earthlike, enough so to make the planet feel more like home. He felt like Dorothy, the Tin Man, and the Scarecrow all at once as he strode down the hallway of Odin’s palace, but oddly enough not the Lion. What Steve had lost in strategy he had made up for in (perhaps brash) confidence. There just wasn’t room for doubt anymore.

This was where he’d have to say goodbye to Mjolnir. Wielding the hammer was marvelous, but Steve still found himself relieved to return it — he didn’t need, nor want, that much power, especially now that the fight was over. Now that his fight was over. Steve brought it up to his face and surveyed his dim reflection in its surface. Well, he looked about as dismal as he felt.

Where to leave the thing? In Thor’s quarters? That would make the most sense, probably. Hopefully Thor would summon it and not care about which direction it flew in from. Or else he would just think Odin had moved it.

Steve hummed to himself as he walked towards what hopefully was the direction that Thor’s room was in, then stopped in his tracks when he saw a… box. It had a glasslike panel in the front and was illuminated from within. He almost stepped closer to examine it when he saw a figure pacing around inside. Loki.

Steve shrunk back and out of view. He hoped with all his might that Loki was too distraught at being encaged to have noticed the Earthling wandering around, then about-faced and marched in the opposite direction.

There were giggles coming from a large set of double doors, which Steve assumed were probably Freya’s quarters. Perhaps Jane would be nearby too. He had no idea how the hell he would get the Reality Stone back into Aether form, so he didn’t think twice about moving along. Thor’s room had to be somewhere nearby.

Steve stopped at the next grandiose set of doors he saw and listened by it. No voices inside. He placed his hand over his compass, sucked in a breath, and inched one door open with his back against it. It was somewhat dark — the curtains were drawn — but the midday light still seeped its way in and traced the outline of a bedroom.

A shape in the bed rolled over and snored.

Steve’s jaw clenched — more of a reflex than anything now — and he gripped Mjolnir tighter. Must think quickly. Cons: there was someone sleeping in here. Pros: he knew those snores, and they were definitely those of no other than Thor’s. Maybe if he plopped Mjolnir by the door Thor would think he’d kicked it in his sleep or something. No, that was stupid… but it wasn’t like Thor was a genius. He had bigger things on his mind right about now anyway.

Steve realized he probably shouldn’t be leaving the door open during Thor’s nap. Besides the fact that it could wake him up and screw up the timeline, it was just plain rude. Steve needed to commit to a plan fast.

That (probably brash) confidence came rushing back when Steve summoned it and pushed him fully into the room. He eased the door shut and crept to place Mjolnir at the foot of Thor’s bed. Just as he was about to set it down, the hammer began to twitch. Steve let go and scrambled back.

Mjolnir flew into Thor’s raised fist. Steve held his breath. For an eternity, Thor held Mjolnir in that lifted, glorious position… then dropped his arm and resumed snoring. He had it clutched in his embrace like a teddy bear.

Steve exhaled through his nose, stood, and slipped out. If nothing else, that had been quite characteristic.

Now it was onto the matter of the Reality Stone. This was perhaps the one he was most apprehensive to touch. Although Tony’s tech made it possible for a human to hold the Stones, the risk that the Reality Stone might take a liking to Steve and absorb into him like it had Jane was not appealing.

But again: no room for doubt, whether directed toward Tony or himself. Steve would have to find Jane before even touching the Stone anyhow. He headed back to Freya’s area of the palace, gritting his teeth. Without Mjolnir he felt more vulnerable, almost naked.

Steve crept inside a smaller side door that led to a room full of dresses. A closet, then. An angered voice was coming through the wall.

“What the _hell_ was that? A — a raccoon just —”

Another, deeper voice spoke. “We’ll take care of this. If you’d please stay in here.”

There was the sound of heavy footsteps, then a door closing. Jane was alone in the room again. At least hopefully. Steve couldn’t hear anyone else talking, only Jane muttering to herself about being violated by self-aware animals.

Using the tips of his thumb and forefinger, Steve pinched the Reality Stone and wiggled it out. His lips tightened as he anticipated it dissolving into his skin — but nothing happened. Of course Stark wouldn’t have let that happen.

Steve still didn’t have a clue how to get the Stone back into Aether form. For all their wits, the rest of the team hadn’t been much help: Bruce had suggested swirling it around in a glass of water, Bucky had told Steve to shove it down Jane’s throat, and Sam had just slapped Steve on the back and said “Good luck, Captain.”

Steve had always loved his friends, but only sometimes admired them.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Bucky’s idea made more sense than Bruce’s. But, aside from the obvious ethical point, if it went wrong then Jane would choke and die. That would not bode well for the future. How had Thanos even made the Aether into a solid anyway?

Of course. With the Stone itself.

Steve closed his eyes and encased the Stone in his fist. Reality is what I want it to be, he thought, and I want this to be the Aether.

It took a few beats of concentration, but Steve felt the Stone melt between his fingers and — drip down to the floor.

“Oh god, oh god, turn back,” Steve said as he tried to keep the rest of the Aether in one hand while he used the other to scrape at what had spilled onto the floor. “Solid! Be a solid again.”

The fallen drops of reality crystallized and lay glittering, almost taunting. He shut his eyes in frustration and knocked against his forehead with an open hand. “Solid and in _one piece_.” When he dared to open his eyes again he was greeted with… no change.

“Please?” Steve said hopefully. He blinked, and next he knew, the Stone was back to its whole self, although still on the floor. Steve heaved a sigh and swiped it up. The syringe that Rocket had used to extract the Aether — Steve shuddered to think of it — was in the briefcase.

Its opening was far too narrow to fit the Stone in, so Steve squeezed shut his eyes again and willed it into a wider funnel. With a cupped hand he placed the Stone and imagined it back in Aether form. Much more willing to obey this time, it turned fluid and slipped into the barrel.

He reached the tranq gun Bucky had given him — ever so thoughtful, the man — and examined it. He’d need it to sedate Jane before giving the Aether back. Despite not being a talking raccoon, Steve couldn’t imagine that Jane would be happy to have another being stick a syringe in her without her consent. Especially not in such a narrow timeframe.

Steve peered through the keyhole of the closet door and saw Jane pacing.

“What the hell,” she kept saying to herself. “What the hell?”

Steve could sympathize with that.

Readying the tranq gun, he inched the door open, but it was just his luck that it creaked and alerted Jane. She whipped her head around and unhinged her jaw, ready to scream — so Steve flung the door open and fired right at her neck. He thanked God that it connected. Jane’s eyes rolled back and she began to fall.

Steve rushed and caught her just before her head could connect with the floor. The tranquilizer dart was silver and slim, a flashing line protruding from her neck. He felt sorry for a second that he had to stab her with needles not just once, but twice, today, but cleared his head and put the syringe to her arm.

He wasn’t sure if it had to go into her veins or if that would instantly kill her. But again, Steve reminded himself that he could not pause like this, and went about injecting the Aether. It flowed with ease, eager to get back to its host.

Jane’s arm glowed and grew hot where Steve held it. He dropped it a hair too late — before he knew it, he was thrown back into a wall, no doubt alerting everyone in the palace. Dammit. Steve struggled to his feet, plucked the dart out of Jane’s neck, and ducked back into the closet. He grabbed the briefcase and threw himself back, back, back through time.

Steve found himself next to… himself. 2012 Captain America was still facedown, passed out after his little showdown with “Loki.” Steve pursed his lips and tranq’d past-Steve just in case.

He snatched that old helmet — seeing it in person like this, he realized it was kind of ugly — off past-Steve’s head and pulled it over his own, then stripped away his time travel suit to reveal Captain America’s classic costume. He stuck the Stone case (minus the Mind Stone) in the nearest hiding spot he could find and continued on to meet Sitwell and Rumlow. After a moment of thought, he doubled back to make sure past-Steve still had his own compass tucked away in his suit. He’d be upset if he didn’t.

The Mind Stone fit back into the Scepter much like the Reality Stone had slipped back into Jane. Already it was working to bend Steve to its will; he could feel it twisting his mind and turning it to putty. Had to return it fast then.

He blinked hard, willed the force away, and donned his Captain America demeanor. Shoulders back. Mouth set. Eyes narrowed. Attitude intensed.

When Steve reached the lobby, he waited. It was unbearable for two reasons — and both were named Tony. He wanted to speak to his old friend, or thank him at least, almost as much as he knew it would be a catastrophic idea to. The last time he’d seen Tony still haunted him.

His right side still pulsing with the power of the Stones. His arc reactor dimming. His hand falling away from Pepper’s. His eyes open. It all came back in flashes whenever Steve thought he finally had moved on.

Entertaining those thoughts was worthless, took away from his focus. Steve busied himself listening to the stomps of Hulk coming down the stairwell. Loki would have to steal the Tesseract before Steve could make his move.

Once he heard Thor smack Tony back into repair, Steve stole outside where Brock Rumlow, Jasper Sitwell, and the rest of the agents were. They were all trying their hardest to contain a glowing satisfaction — almost as if a powerful hero had just convinced them he was allied with their terrorist organization. Not that Steve knew anything about that.

“Gentlemen,” Steve called, “care to explain something to me?”

“Excuse me?” Sitwell whipped around. He grew a snakelike smile when he saw Steve. “Oh, Captain.”

“Why, exactly, did I find this in the hands of Loki disguised as me?” Steve said, brandishing the Scepter’s case. “He was seconds away from using it to enchant us all when I apprehended him.”

Everyone’s faces fell, then darkened. Sitwell stuttered. Rumlow looked ready to combust. Steve contained his amusement.

“Loki escaped mere moments ago and already almost destroyed us all,” Steve continued, looking the HYDRA agents in the eye pointedly. “Be vigilant.”

Rumlow practically snatched the case back from Steve and pivoted away. The group followed, their feet dragging an imperceptible amount more than before.

Thank goodness the Time Stone was also collected from 2012 New York. Steve wasn’t excited to jump all the way back to the 70s, at least not yet. Getting to the Sanctum wouldn’t be a cakewalk itself — but Steve didn’t really mind.

The only way Steve could think to describe Ancient One as was an elderly child. If that made sense. Their head was smooth and bald as a babe’s, but their face one of someone who’d lived longer than even Steve. Much longer. Although they managed to not look as exhausted as Steve felt under the weight of being one hundred-something.

“The other one arrived much faster than you,” they said as Steve climbed onto the rooftop. He’d had to scale up the side of the building, since he’d decided that just waltzing into the Sanctum wouldn’t end well.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Steve said. “I have something for you.”

“I’d hope so. Sit.”

Because he was polite, Steve did.

The Ancient One peered at Steve. Their expression remained neutral. Steve tried not to express his apprehension and showed them the remaining two Stones.

“Yours is… the green one, right?” He smiled and pushed it toward the Ancient One. _Please just take it and let me go_, he thought.

“Wouldn’t you like to relax? Perhaps even have a chat?” they asked, tilting their head, the corners of their mouth quirking. “You’ve had quite the journey so far, I imagine.”

Steve looked down. “Yes — but I’d like to get this other Stone back as quickly as possible.”

“Commendable,” the Ancient One said, “but I’m sure that’s not mandatory. You may rest here for as long as you like.”

Steve smiled and leaned back. They wouldn’t be taking back the Stone any time soon, clearly, so might as well.

“Where are you headed after you return the last Stone?”

Steve paused. He crossed his arms, once again on alert. “Home.”

The Ancient One lifted a brow. “Of course. But where would that be?”

“...where the heart is?” Steve offered with his most charming smile.

The Ancient One hmmed and gazed at Steve some more. “I imagine you’ve thought quite a bit about your home.”

The breeze picked up, as if to reprimand Steve. He held back a sigh and said, “I have.” There was a moment of silence. Steve’s hand went to his pocket and gripped his compass, an anchor in the midst of this rather awkward conversation.

“What are you holding?” the Ancient One asked.

Steve pulled the compass out — because he was polite — and popped it open to show them.

“She looks lovely.” The Ancient One tilted their head to the other side.

Steve nodded.

“I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you again.” The Ancient One’s eyes sparkled as if they shared a secret.

Steve blinked and murmured, “I am too.”

Camp Lehigh wasn’t as dreary as Vormir, yet managed to be almost as disagreeable. Someone had already put out an alert against Steve’s random soldier character from the Heist. He’d have to be extra cautious now.

He stole a uniform with as much discretion as possible and kept his chin down. Blending in wasn’t easy; it had never come naturally to Steve, not when he was small and sick, especially not when he was super-sized.

The easiest way to not be questioned — since not being noticed wasn’t quite an option — was to walk with a purpose. Steve headed inside and into the nearest office, grabbed a stack of papers, and continued on to the bunker that held the Tesseract.

That reminded Steve: he had to figure out how to get the Space Stone back into Tesseract form. Shards of the crystalline container were in the briefcase, but what could even put that back together? Superglue? (Everyone had been just as useless about this as the Aether. Sam had even told him to lick the pieces and seal them back together like an envelope.) What a way to sour his mood. It must have shown on his face, because whenever he met someone in the eye, they shied away.

This time the elevator was empty. Not that many people were going down to the Tesseract’s level anyway. Steve was grateful that this Camp Lehigh was in the 1970s and, as such, had no good security cameras. He tugged the brim of his new hat lower.

A dizzying worry struck Steve just as the doors began to open. What if there were guards waiting for him on the other side? What if he got ripped to shreds before he could return the Stone? What if —

There was no one there, at least not anyone with a gun trained on him. Steve scolded himself about that doubt, that nagging anxiety he just couldn’t lock away no matter how hard he tried, for the last time.

The room was large and stuffed to the brim with machines and metal boxes. Steve scanned for a container that had been torched open.

With a press of his watch, Stone-proof gloves materialized on his hands, and Steve took the last gem out.

“You need to be in the Tesseract,” Steve told it. It did nothing.

He clinked it and a piece of its former sheath together. Still nothing. He tried putting the Stone and the rest of the pieces in between his hands and shaking, hoping that would amuse the Stone into reforming the Tesseract. He should’ve guessed how that would turn out. Finally he settled on just rebuilding the cube, shard by shard, like some loser. He didn’t lick it. He still had some pride left.

Steve was three-quarters of the way through when sharp voices came from the direction of the door. Someone was barking orders to search the area and find the intruders.

“Why are you so stubborn?” Steve groaned to the Stone. It twinkled in response.

“Over there! I saw a flash!” someone yelled.

Steve cursed at the Stone and stuck it in the cavity of the almost-finished Tesseract. He almost re-shattered the whole thing when he placed the last corner. Once it was all somewhat fitted together, Steve shoved it into the containment box, which began to shine blue as it turned back on. The Stone was back in place and that was what mattered; if it didn’t fix itself, Howard Stark and the US of A would just have to figure it out.

“They’re after the Tesseract!” came the same voice.

_Wrong_, Steve thought as he stole away into another aisle. He ducked behind a contraption as someone ran by. All the soldiers were converging on the Tesseract. Steve took the opportunity to slip out; he heard more yells as one noticed the door opening and closing, but was long gone when they reached it.

He ran where his legs took him: to Peggy.

Her office was empty, both in the lobby and behind its windows. She was probably out looking for the “intruders” … for him. Steve exhaled and leaned back against the wall, sliding down it to sit on the floor.

It was comforting to be in her space. Peggy had always been a soothing presence. That was not to be confused with being demure, which she was not; it was her forwardness, her strength even in the face of the unknown, that reassured Steve more than anything ever could. Of course, he knew lots of other people with that quality, but the fact that he was wholly in love with Peggy helped a lot.

Steve hugged his knees to his chest and gazed down at his watch. He thought back to what the Ancient One had said, and for a moment was sure they knew his plan, then for another was sure they did not. Either way, Steve concluded, they at least had an inkling.

For the past five years, perhaps even before that, Steve had been growing more and more insecure. He’d tried so hard to cover it up, fill in all the gaping wounds with artificial confidence, but that had just prevented him from healing. Steve brushed his thumb over his compass and let himself shed it all. It stung as it fell away but he didn’t need it anymore — everything he needed to be sure of, he was. Now there was room for a refreshing peace, a sense of closure, that he hadn’t been acquainted with for a long while. He finally knew: the Ancient One had not disapproved. His friends would be okay without him. And most of all, he had a date to catch.

Steve dialed the numbers into his watch, smiled a smile that crinkled his eyes, and for the first time did not mind the feeling of time travel.

**Author's Note:**

> I also posted this on Wattpad a while ago, pinky swear I did not plagiarize this from someone with like 1 read haha.


End file.
